


Glitter in the Air

by TypicalRAinbow



Series: Strive! Various WW one shots [3]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 1998), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Other, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 11:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypicalRAinbow/pseuds/TypicalRAinbow
Summary: HB, Hardbroom, Teacher, deputy, witch ... Constance. A tip of the iceberg look at the life and times of a complicated woman with an poor sleep schedule and an excellent memory. [Oneshot. Based on Pink's Glitter in the Air.]





	Glitter in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Hold on to your witches’ hats, there’s a fair bit of back and forth in this on. There’s enough wibbely wobbly timey wimeey road works ahead that’s making memory lane look like the London underground. Some lines taken from episodes and the lyrics are from Glitter in the Air by Pink. This started out as a songfic is now more snatches of a life with lyrics as the subtitles hopefully helping link one time to another.  
> Huge thank you to Sammi for her help on this one. Enjoy X

The night was a dark, quiet and clear one. It was barely disturbed by an owl that hooted somewhere in the trees surrounding Castle Overblow. The school’s residents slept on soundly. All, except one.

Constance Hardbroom.

A frightening potions teacher. The stern deputy-mistress. A powerful witch. The complicated woman who knew maybe even a thousand spells potions and an excellent memory all tucked away in that far too clever head of hers.

But for some reason tonight she felt both restless and content.

Restless enough to feel fidgety and be wide awake without a potion. And she had no work or marking left to do to put her energy into. Content enough to rather than chase or force sleep or to parole another corridor deciding instead to try and keep stay still let her mind wander over whatever came to mind… with surprisingly no purpose and with none of her well mask anxiousness or over thinking.

All the school’s residents slept on soundly. All, except one. Not asleep, just Constance trying not to focus on anything and let her clever mind ponder over yonder. Still feeling over stimulated she flexed her wrists letting her magic flow freely up her arm, feeding off her spare energy and fidgety sparkle at her fingers....

**...** **Have** **You** **Ever** **Fed** **A** **Lover** **With** **Just** **Your** **Hands?**

 

Constance had held out the black berry she'd plucked freshly off the bramble. To be taken by fingers that would hopefully brush against each other of course.

But she flinched at the bold moment when her companion leant forward and bit into it, nearly causing Constance to drop the berries. Sharp white pearls bit in became purple. Nature's lipstick leaving a stain on her pale fingertips. Only to be wiped and kissed away by her picnic partner.

The afternoon sunshine and laugher, she remembered. It had been the weekend and no lessons to teach and the girls to their own devices.

"Nice. Won’t you have one?" Her love said a grin trying to coax a few berries between her lips. Constance scoffed. But tentively accepted, feeling a somewhat like a child being spoon fed. At that smile, she'd felt her own cheeks flush and she blushed, trying to sensibly swallow the fruit. It turned to be far sweeter then she’d expected as well. And she hadn't expected their thumb brushed across her lips, smudging the juice into her burgundy lipstick.

Her hand stayed on top of theirs when the witch gave a kiss, (well a peck but sweeter then the fruit was shared between them).

It left purple and dark red stain on her lovers mouth no matter how much Miss Hardbroom fussed and tried to wipe it away with here handkerchief which earnt her much teasing. She lost track of the time what with the kisses and the talking. They both stayed sat at the edge of meadow together on her cloak till much later in that afternoon then she’d meant too. Her head in their lap and their fingers in her loose hair, a relaxed almost sleepy feeling creeping over the couple...

**...** **Closed** **Your** **Eyes** **And** **Trusted** **-**

Sleep wouldn’t come easily to her. And when it did it wasn’t worth the effort. Constance was sat up in the bunk bed, covers tucked in around her legs. The only light in the empty dorm was from her bedside table, and the reflection of it glinting off the glass in her hand. She'd never been nervous about a potion before.

Sleeping potions could be tricky. Too strong and it trap her in sleep or kill her outright. Addictive too if you messed up the dosage. But the thought of one dreamless night, a few hours to rest with no nightmares, won out over her fears.

As she uncorked the bottle Constance noted the potion was flawless. She’d have to be quick before other girls came in and started getting ready for bed. Or worse Matron on her bedtime checks.

Constance drank a mouthful, hating the taste against her minty clean teeth. She then stashed the bottle away and blew out the candle, just as the other girls could be heard leaving the bath rooms. And Although Constance was asleep before her head touched the pillow, the seventeen year old decided in a moment of clarity that she shouldn’t doubt her ability’s again…

 

 **Just** **Trusted** **...** **?**

 

Nerves and doubt where forced back down her throat and too the back of her mind. A last-minute tweak to her dress was made, before Miss Hardbroom took a deep breath and made her entrance.

But not just with real magic. The room span, making her feel dizzy and she caught glimpses of familiar faces eagerly gazing up at her.

For a moment, she is truly terrified.

“I AM-!" she snaps louder then she meant too, out of sheer nerves. Which was silly. Constance clears her throat and in her best Davina impression trilled. "Your fairy god mother!"

Hadn't she been stood in front of a hall full of students for years? Why get nervous now? This should be easy. And she would not break character no matter how ridiculous this pantomime was. Or how determined Lavina and the third years seemed be trying to make her look a laughing stock. Maud had already managed that!

 **Have** **you** **ever** **thrown** **a** **fist** **full** **of** **glitter** **in** **the** **air** **..** **.?**

 

No room for practicality tonight unless you're working backstage. (No scratch that, Miss Drill, Ruby and Charlie were in charge of backstage!)

But it's all glass stones, fluffy trims sparkle and lace. Black boots are replaced with ballet pumps. Authority with sugary cringing sweetness. Wings, tiara and a wand. Like any real witch needs a wand with a blooming star on top!  
But then again, she's working off the script with-

"..Carrots..."

Fine they’d have to do. She says her piece and stage magic showering the stage in gold and silver sparkles. The audience gasp, as if they’ve never seen magic before.  
For a moment, it feels like her scene stole the show; even the girls and boys backstage are clapping. And as she faced the now cheering audience to curtsied Constance wondered why had this had seemed so frightening...

 

 **Have** **You** **Ever** **Looked** **Fear** **In** **The** **Face** **-** **?**

 

It was a monstrous, frightfully wrinkled old face. Filled with hate and topped with permanent sneer. Cold dead eyes squinted at her underneath grey lank hair that hung just like the cobwebs that covered nearly ever surface of the castle. Along with the now sleeping Lavina. The cruel mouth curled in a nasty smile, a voice that could cut glass as she shrieked at Constance.

“Ahhh! One of her Good Fairy Friends?”

The Uninvited. A real fairy-tale horror. One who was threating eternal slumber to all those in the castle and defiantly a danger to the girls and staff alike.

But despite the tremble in her boots and the thought she could possibly be facing certain death Miss Hardbroom stood tall. For the wellbeing of the school, she summoned her magic. And gave the old hag the deepest glare and equally nastiest smile she could fake.

 **And** **Said,**  "If you like..."

**"** **I** **Just** **Don** **'** **t** **Care** **"** **?**

She tried to appear unfazed. Act like that she hadn’t even heard those words and brush it off.

But truth be told Miss Hardbroom felt awful. She had, in retrospect perhaps been a little brutish that last lesson. But to hear such a nasty comment, even as a whisper when the girl left with her friends to their next class; it left her somewhat shocked. Fearful even.

So much so she didn’t call the child back and hand out another detention for her cheek. ‘HB’ wasn't all that bad, was she? No, Constance sniffed regaining her composure. The stern mask came back down as her next class began to take their seats. She could not take such things to heart. No matter how own students thought of her, at least had their education and their wellbeing was accounted for. And ‘HB’ could never be as bad as the tutor she'd had at their age...

 

 **It** **'** **s** **Only** **Half** **Past** **The** **Point** **Of** **No** **Return**

 

They had done it. The last clocking in machine struck two thirty as it was vanished away like all the others. A cheer rose from the crowd of girls and staff alike. Between Amelia’s arrival, Mildred doing what she shouldn’t and Ruby's latest contraption that would later need confiscating, the school had been saved again.

And her old tutor now ex headmistress Heckitty Broomhead had been unceremoniously "shoved off" the premises.

But amongst the celebrations, the tea and tales, deep down Constance was worried it might not be enough. The woman was relentless and had nasty habit of reappearing. Hadn't they thought they'd got rid of her last time? What if Mr Hallow tried to get her reinstated?

Constance privately shuddered at the thought of a permeant return. And again, at remembering her practically cocky departing words to the then inspector.

"It was so nice to see you again, Mistress Broomhead."

Somewhat mocking of the past between them, wasn’t it?

 

 **The** **Tip** **Of** **The** **Iceberg**

  
"Are you going to tell us what that was all about?" the gym teacher asked, always the first to ask questions about things she shouldn’t.

"No." Miss Hardbroom replied, adding another book to the marked pile.

And ignoring the looks she was receiving, and the other looks exchanged between the rest of staff.

“Constance, if it’s a matter of some delicacy-?” Amelia started.

"Oh, Constance please don't leave us in the dark!"

"I'm not, Miss Bat ‘leaving you in the dark’. You simply must believe me when I say, it doesn’t matter." Constance said though gritted teeth, ticking and crossing another page of answers.

She had hoped two days on, things would have returned to normal. The inspection results had come in promptly as expected. Along with a letter addressed solely to Constance that she hadn’t dared remove from her pigeon hole.

“But what if we have another inspection?” Imogen persisted. “We can hardly pull the same trick on her again.”

“We won’t have another inspection.” Constance huffed.

Amelia agreed. “Yes, on that front. We passed this one so we aren’t due for another Off-Witch visit for three years. But that doesn't stop them returning if they receive complaints.”

"And,” Davina said in almost a whisper, “What if Mistress Bro- what if SHE comes back? Outside of her work?"

Constance stopped and glared at them. “Why should she do that?”

The three of them stalled under her look.

"Well it’s just the way she was with you…was a tad-?”

“Even for a past student- come on, you have to admit it was odd."

“We’re worried about you-!"

The last one struck a nerve and unleashed a short sharp shock.

"Must you?! As it is none of your concern- and dare I say your business so I fail to see what you are trying to worry about!" Miss Hardbroom snapped. She gathered up her things and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

If she hadn’t paused for breath right outside however, she wouldn't have heard Amelia comment to her colleagues:

“Ladies no don’t follow her, please. This has been a stressful time for Miss Hardbroom.”

Constance disagreed and vanished to her room instead. She didn’t want any pity or any slack. But she still heard those dreaded words, "I think it's time we give her a break..."

 **The** **Sun** **Before** **The** **Burn**

She didn’t believe in holidays. How many times had she protested that? Nor did she like this one.

Sand kept getting everywhere.  
The girls had been allowed far too much freedom and kept forgetting to put on sun cream.  
When she put on her shades, she couldn’t read the dam book Amelia insisted she ort too. But when she didn’t wear them, she couldn’t see anything for the glare of the sun.

And although the heat wasn't uncomfortable, it was still far hotter than she was used to. She'd have much preferred to stay in the cool draftee castle rather than Rowan-Webb's riverside cottage. She'd already removed her stockings and forgone her petty coats but she was still too warm. Even in her summer dress with the top button undone.

Constance wondered if, seeing as the Merlin boy kept appearing with fancy drinks anyway (the sheer nerve too, she was sure there had been a kick of alcohol in one!), could she send him back up to the house for her hat? If only so she could keep the noon heat off the back her neck…

 **The** **Thunder** **Before** **The** **Lightning**

The static in the air made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Constance let go of her hat in favour of clutching her lurching broomstick with both hands. The pointed hat blew away, swirling downwards as another drum of thunder rolled through the clouds above. Giant rain drops soaked the young teacher to the skin, her knuckles white and numb.

Unless she were to take a detour like a sensible witch, she would have to cross close to its centre point shortly. And any storm no matter how small and quick is still dangerous to those in the air. Below the world was grey and black suddenly illumined with the white outline of lightening. For Constance, it was the most beautiful, the scariest and most exhilarating flight of her life.  
Mostly scariest.

The first lightening blot flashed ahead of her as she zipped across the sky. Then another, and a third. But despite the panic and the adrenaline Constance gritted her teeth and adjusted her coarse, repeating a mater in her head forcing herself to keep her going…

 **And** **The** **Breath** **Before** **The** **Phrase**

Keep going. Keep focused. Confidence and control. For the good of the academy. Dignitary and decorum. For the wellbeing and harmony of the school.

Rules to live by, yes.

But then you had such things like “But headmistress-”and “no running in the corridors.” The “see me after class.” And “How many times-” or ‘For goodness sake.” And her current un-favourite:

 “Mildred Hubble!”

Oh, there were a fair few times when Miss Hardbroom felt sick of repeating herself…

**Have** **You** **Ever** **Felt** **This** **Way** **..** **.?**

“Good gracious-! Miss Hardbroom, whatever’s the matter?”

 

“Nothing, Headmistress. I’m uh-” Constance swallowed, forcing her head up and what little she’d had for breakfast back down.

“I’m fine. I feel fine.” She said all the same, as Davina bullied her kindly into a chair.

 

“Liar. If you turn any greener you ‘ll get a part in the wizard of Oz!”

Whipping her head round to glare at the concerned PE teacher for her unappreciated wit wasn’t the best of idea Constance had ever had. The motion sickness it caused bumped up her queasiness level and it was all Constance could do not to faint. Or worse spectacularly vomit.

 

“Constance, I don’t believe you.” Amelia said sternly setting down her tea cup. “You’re ill. Turn around and go back to bed at once. And don’t think about teaching until you feel better. You are to take the rest of the day off at least.”

 

“But my lessons-!”

 

She could add standing up far too fast to her bad ideas list. The incredibly hot room suddenly span and she practically fell back into the chair just as fast. Miss Drill rubbed her back in what might have been a soothing comforting manner, if Constance been built like a brick horse rather than feeling as fragile as porcelain. But given her legs had turned to jelly she had no choice but to lean back into the support.

“Constance listen to Miss Cackle,” Miss Bat cooed far too loudly, fussing over her. “You do look ever so dreadful. Pop back up to bed and I’ll make you a nice soothing tonic we’ll have you feeling right as rain again!”

Constance shook her head to object and felt her stomach flip again at the thought of Davina’s potions. Even though the older witch was just trying to helpful it was in the most unhelpful way imaginable. She mumbled she was perfectly alright and sure it would simply pass. Although with her hand over her mouth it was a little hard to hear.

 

At that point, Amelia put her foot down.

 

"No arguments Miss Hardbroom. You are ill and you are going on sick leave this instant. Imogen, get her to the nurse’s office- No Constance, don’t even try to get yourself there with magic! Davina go and tell her form to stay where they are for now, while I call for a doctor…”

**Have** **You** **Ever** **Hated** **Yourself** **For** **Staring** **At** **The** **Phone?**

 

Walking down the hall Constance stopped, quickly headed back to Miss Cackle's office and poked her head round the open door.

The phone, that infernal devise Mr Hallow and the other governors had insisting on installing (complete with its lines and cables and whatever else) sat squat and stupid looking on the desk, a bright red with extra big buttons against the black of Amelia’s typewriter.

It- the phone that is not the typewriter- didn't ring. And it didn’t ring again. But she was sure she heard it…

Constance scoffed. Of course, it hadn’t rung! Why would it? Everyone else girls and other staff were all away for the holidays.

They rarely sent post cards. Why should they call? They'd be back in their own time before school started again. Till then it was just her and her cat. It’s not like she needed anyone in her life …

 

 **Your** **Whole** **Life** **Waiting** **On** **The** **Ring** **To** **Prove** **You** **'** **re** **Not** **Alone**

 

Miss Hardbroom sat by herself in the staffroom, not oblivious to the rest of the celebrations around the castle just not joining in with them.

Icy Stevens had left the school. Rather quietly compared to his entrance with very little in the way of screaming teenagers … but on the staffroom desk he'd left something else.

It was the little box. And inside the little box a band of gold and stone. With his card.

“Just think about it please? One or the other? Or both?” He’d asked. And left it there. Just in case she changed her mind.

She had thought about it. Both the marriage proposal and the offer of work. And her answer was still a definite no.

 

Better spinsterhood then being attached to a blighter after all. And while she was flattered he’d been inspired by her work, she was at home, had made a life in the Academy. But Constance couldn't rush to tell him that. Not yet anyway. She would say no, in time of course.

But it made her uncertain somewhat. Well the whole situation did. 

Who carries around engagement rings to offer to offer to strangers for Pete’s sake?

But could she really make it, whatever it was, academically outside of the school? 

So, while she waited for the others, Constance brushed her now loose hair back over her shoulder and took a sip of wine, trying to collect her thoughts. She simply stayed there ideally wondering to where a yes or two could take her, hypothetically of course, and what Miss Cackle and the rest of staff will say…

 

 **Have** **You** **Ever** **Been** **Touched** **So** **Gently,** **You** **Had** **To** **Cry?**

 

“I’m...I’m glad you felt you could come to me, Constance. But… I’m afraid I don’t know what to say...” Amelia sighed, taking off her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose.

There was a long silence. In it, Miss Cackle stood and Constance flinched as the head mistress moved to stand alongside her. Always expecting the worst, she was relived and confused when the headmistress only handed her a hankie chief. She tried to say thank you. It came out almost as a sob.

But she felt ashamed, dabbing at her eyes, wishing she wasn’t sat there in the office, crying like a tizzy school girl. Amelia didn’t question or comment the fat tears that started rolling down Constance’s face. She didn’t walk away or suffocate her personal space. And she didn’t tell not to cry or that it was okay to cry.  
She did however simply say, “there, there. There there my dear.”  
And “We’ll figure something out for you,” giving Constance’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze…

 

 **Have** **You** **Ever** **Invited** **A** **Stranger** **To** **Come** **Inside** **...** **?**

 

Even now Constance could almost feel Miss Lamplighter’s hand upon her shoulder, as though she was still casually leaning over her to examine the hasty magiced up sketch. She didn’t know this new non-witch at all. And already the woman had the impertinence to try and reach out to her, engross on her privacy her potions lab, her thoughts and now, (judging by that little light in the darkness), her night duty as well.

 

"Rather late to be up working on a masterpiece, isn’t it?” Constance said, appearing from the shadows.

Miss Lamplighter gasped and nearly slid down the flight of stairs she was sat on. “Miss Hardbroom! Goodness you scared me. I didn’t hear you at all! I was just- I’m sorry I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk with my sketch book.”

“hmm. You'll get cold sitting there you know. Not to mention ruin your eyesight drawing in the dark.” Constance quipped brushing past her.

Wait.

What was it Amelia had said about being hospitable?

 

Constance paused and said, trying not to sound condescending, "I was going to the staffroom for a cup of tea. If you wish join me and to continue sketching in there, Miss Lamplighter, you’re welcome to do so. The fire is lit at least."

“Thank you that would be lovely. And Please, call me Lynne.” The artist smiled following her.

Do we know each other well enough now for first name terms? Constance asked herself, not offering the use of her own, and stood aside to hold the staffroom door open to her new acquaintance. Both jumped however at a squawking sound.

 

 “What an unusual clock.” Lynne gigged as clock on the wall literally crowed the hour, “Oh guess you’re right, I didn’t realise it was THAT late…”

 

 **It** **'** **s** **Only** **Half** **Past,** **The** **Point** **Of** **Oblivion** **-**

 

Constance should have left twenty minutes ago to be back at the college in time for room checks. 

But she hadn’t looked at her watch in almost an hour and they were still dancing. The music was loud, food and drinks gone people too drunk to stand let alone keep in time. But Constance felt like a queen, no a princess. Her hair done differently and the contraband make up was pretty and her dress quite different from the normal  attire, fanning out beautifully earning her admiring looks from the few still up. But those partygoers and the rest of the people, just a blur. All Constance saw was her best friend. When they were together like this they could act out of sorts, dance on and on, feel so alive and fly so fast and all to soon it would nearly over.

And unknown to Constance as across the town, the college gates were locked for the night, they were out of time...

 

 **The** **Hourglass** **On** **The** **Table,**

 

The few remaining grains of sand fell and marked the end of the final exam of the day. Miss Hardbroom watched them intently, making sure she didn’t call finish a second to soon or late, and sincerely hoped all the girls, this class especially, had done their revision. Ethel seemed to be working furiously write up till the last second which was unusual for her while Mildred Hubble seemed to have finished far too early and clearly been doodling for the last four minutes.

 

“Time’s up, girls. Put your pens down - that includes you, Mildred! And turn your papers over. I do so hope these essays are worth reading.”  

As they filed out Constance went to collect the exam sheets. Or she would have, but as she stood she had pause discovering her leg had had the cheek to fall asleep in an exam. Maybe next time I supervise, she thought, stamping her foot angrily to rid the pins and needles, I’ll have to make an effort to walk about and check the girls progress more. If only to stretch my legs…

 

 **The** **Walk** **Before** **The** **Run.**

 

"Running?” Imogen paused at a tree to stretch one leg then the other before jogging on even further on ahead. “Can’t you pick up the pace? This is barely above walking speed! We can’t leave Miss Bat at the school on her own."

"Miss Drill, it's supposed to be walks afternoon, not dashing off after Davina day!"

But the infuriating non-witch only slowed down a fraction to let Constance catch up, laughing.

"And yet Miss Cackle and the girls are staying at Cosies to eat more cake! Why, what's the matter HB can’t you keep up without a broomstick? Or are you witches so unfit you need to magic yourself everywhere?”

That last one stung. Stubborn in the mind she could keep up without magic and determined to prove the younger woman she was more than capable, Miss Hardbroom forced her to hitch up her skirt above her ankles and went striding after her. Successfully she made Drill admit she’d been wrong. Although Constance refused to admit the trek had left her far too hot, her dress sticking to her, and that her lungs hurt from the want of oxygen…

 

 **The** **Breath** **Before** **The** **Kiss,**

 

Her breathing was erratic enough and then she'd gasped in surprise at the touch on her shoulder, her gaze darted between eyes and lips. All she could hear was her skittering heart beat as the distance between them closed again, firmer this time. Constance tried to concentrate on appearing confident as a witch should be at all times. but her legs where jelly and that first kiss had come so suddenly, she dropped her text books, the giddiness and the sweetness threw her completely of guard…

 

 **And** **The** **Fear** **Before** **The** **Flames.**

 

It had been an accident of course. What a surprise. Mildred had had the jotter too close to the Bunsen burner and it had lit up like a struck match, pages leaping up with the flames.

There had been a yelp from partner Maud, and a shriek from Ethel. But most where too stunned to move. In a blink, Constance had already put it and all the fires under the cauldrons out, then slowly cleared the smoke and resulting embers from the book floating around their heads with magic. And she’d dealt Mildred out just fifty lines of "I must take better care of my notes in a practical lesson and remember that paper is flammable," before one of them had even considered setting off the alarm in panic. That was effortless to control compared to calming the dozen chatty students.

But later in the comfort of the staffroom, Constance’s hand shook as she held her cup. And she couldn’t help a sigh, wanting something stronger than a strong cup of tea…

 

 **Have** **You** **Ever,** **Felt** **This** **Way** **...** **?**

 

“Miss Crotchet, you’re drunk and making an appalling racket.” Constance hissed shutting the door behind her trying to focus on standing up and moving to the sofa. It was like walking on the deck of a boat then the floor of the staff room, but she was certain she was walking in a straight line. Although stepping over other legs was hard. Hopefully she didn’t look ungainly.

 

Lavina just giggled loudly at her from the little seat in fount of the fire, as did the gym mistress. Amelia was asleep opposite them in her armchair and had been since the Pudding. Miss Crotchet could wake the dead and the headmistress would still be snoring on.

“E’cuse me! I’ve had one sherry and a few glasses of wine! Same as everyone else, thank you.” Lavina put firmly.  
“How many is a few?!” Imogen teased looking, from one witch to the other, while not entirely upright, sober or awake herself.

“I haven’t had a few!” Constance argued. Or had she? No, she couldn’t have. She was far too sensible. “I’ve had less then you even.”

“I would have thought you’d be steadier on your feet then!” 

Constance just scowled, pouring herself an unsteady glass of water and sipping slowly, hoping to sober up. And cure her hiccups.

“Don’t be a Grinch or a scrooge Constance.” Lavinia said wagging one finger at the taller witch, her paper hat on the point of slipping over her eyes. “it’s Christmas, you’re allowed to be MERRY!”

“Can you stop shouting please Miss?” Came a very timid, quiet whine, to everyone’s surprise. They looked around and Constance realised it had come from underneath a pile of cloaks by the table. Nudging it with her foot it turned out to be a pale faced sickly looking Charlie Blossom. So much for his uncle’s he’s-seventeen-he’s-old-enough-for-a-wine-with-dinner attitude. How the lad had ended up there at Constance couldn’t give a cracker. But with the gym mistress’s help to haul him up, the three women got him laid down on the sofa with the coal bucket to act as a sick bowl. And maybe it was the Christmas spirt, but Constance passed him a fresh glass of water rather than emptying hers over his head.

“Now he’s drunk. And underage. I’m not even tiddly!” Lavina tittered, as the boy was fussed over.

 

“Aaaand that’s a point, Constance Hardbroom, just where is your Christmas jumper?” 

“Never you mind.” Constance snapped from her perch on an arm rest and hating the singsong in the chanting teacher’s voice when her head was hurting too much. You were supposed to get hangovers afterwards, weren’t you? “No one is ever going to wear those ill-fitting things again unless Miss Bat asked anyway.”

 

Lavinia had warned of their arrival from Mongolia and as she kept reminding everyone, “I told you they would come! It was in the cards.”

“The only cards here are Christmas Cards.” Constance said, thinking herself very clever. Amelia in her sleep snorted. “what are you doing to make such a ruckus anyway?”

“She was playing Silent night on her-” Miss Drill forgetting the word gestured vaguely at the instrument. “thingy.”

“imogenyouaresorude... It was an ode to yule time in d minor for the harpsichord.”

“Really? It sounded more like an ode to Rudolf in pain.” Constance said smirking at her own joke.

“I just need make some more adjustments on- Oh Dear!”

Lavina tried said adjustments. But at the bellowing shriek that spewed out Constance stuck her fingers in her ears, Charlie stuck his head in the coal bucket and Even Amelia grumbled mid snore at the noise. “I suppose did sound a bit screechy. But’s a wonderful song. I’ve had the choir try it out and they like it. It’s a lovely tune too, listen-! “

 

 **La** **La** **La** **La** **-**

 

Loud tuneless singing is not uncommon at Cackles. It was the loud tuneless singing in a field that made Amelia turn around.

 

“What on earth-?”

 

“Davina Bat, headmistress. Is there usually any other reason?” Constance quipped appearing at her shoulder. “She’s gone from fetching wild garlic back to overexciting the first years as usual. Mildred Hubble amongst them.”

 

But she had to purse her lips to stop a smile crossing her face. Miss Bat had the girls gathered about her in bizarre ring-around-a-roses or old maid sort of game. Normally the girls would have insisted they were too mature for such things, as typical eleven to twelve year olds do. But her group even Ethel and Drusilla humoured her college. They did look like they were enjoying themselves, innocently laughing and singing with their cloaks billowing out behind them. It was quite sweet. And they had earned a breath of fresh air after all that computer nonsense. It was quite a relief to see it.

 

“Oh, I suppose they all need to let off steam after well- you know.” Amelia smiled. Together they watched the game continue, as other students started joining in or relaxing instead of the herb gathering.

“You know, despite all evidence to the contrary, Mildred could make a fine witch one day you know.” Miss Cackle said after a while.

“Hm perhaps one day.”

“Maybe even Weridsister material?”

“I wouldn’t go far as to hope so high, Miss Cackle.”

Amelia smiled she knew too well the stormy relationship between student and teacher. “Ah but Look at what she did today.”

“It’s all very well playing the hero. But I wish she’d act a little more grown up the rest of the time as well- oh now what are they up too?” Constance huffed as the sound of play getting too silly boisterous and far out of hand. “Alright we’ll have none of that, thank you-!” She began striding over, “Mildred on your feet! This is not a play school or a crèche!”

 

 **La** **La** **La** **Laa** **-!**

 

They'd been a commotion amongst the new first years just as they began to line up after the Walkers Gate song. Nothing major. Just the yearly first timers’ nerves, a burst bag and one little girl’s tears of “I want my mum!” And "I want to go home!"  
Constance was about to sort the matter out when the head girl stepped in. And Mildred Hubble handled it brilliantly.

 

Over the next two weeks Miss Hardbroom would see Mildred demonstrate to the first years a perfect landing, where to find the freshest herbs in the woods, and instruct them on the traditions of Cackles. She would still have her moments, she wouldn’t be Mildred without them. But not bad for someone who was as little first year herself had crashed into the bins, and then later that term the chief wizard. That only what seemed like yesterday.

 

And now Mildred Hubble was in her fourth and final year. Well the whole class was, obviously. Her girls, Constance thought sadly as the form discussed what they were to go on to do after leaving cackles next term. They always grow up. The growing up Constance didn’t mind given the awkward stages. But they seemed to be ready to fly the nest so fast. Well they always did of course. But with this bunch Constance felt- well she didn't know what to feel. Especially the once irritating clumsy girl who was far too fast becoming a smart young lady...

 

 **There** **You** **Are,** **Sitting** **In** **The** **Garden,**

 

"Connie? Connie, are you home?"

The young lady in question paused in her task and stood up from behind the roses.

"Aha there you are! I wondered where you'd gone." the old man called as he rolled out the double doors, just as his daughter emerged from a flowerbed and approached him on the veranda.

"You could have woken me." Her father continued with a grin. "You know I enjoy watching you potter about the garden."

"You need your rest, Papa," Constance sighed setting down the basket of her gathered herbs (most would end in his medicine later), flowers and books down beside him, carefully seating herself so her skirts wouldn't crease to much or brush her muddy boots.

  
"And you need to relax. I can sleep enough when I'm dead-"

"Papa-!"

"Oh hush. I'm only teasing, petal." He smiled taking his daughter’s hand in his frail ones, and gave it a kiss and a tender pat. She huffed and gave him a scowl, the one he said always reminded him of her mother.

They chatted about the garden and the sunshine for a while. But despite his attempts to conceal it, one of her father’s coughing fits built up then came on, a deep rattling noise from his chest. She shot him a concerned look as the bath chair rocked but the brakes seemed in order, unlike his magic. Holding his hand throughout helped but still only young in power, Constance’s healing spells weren't really enough anymore. Even medicine didn’t help much nowadays, the doctor said it was more a case of keeping any pain to a minimum.

But the coughing subsided eventually. A blanket appeared over his legs and she summoned up refreshments of biscuits and tea. Then as always, she helped him hold the cup so he needn't use the straw or sippy cup that he found so degrading.

 

"Ahh. I don't know what I'd do without you, Connie, thank you. You really are a star..."

**Clutching** **My** **Coffee.**

 

"Cheers Miss 'Ardbroom you're a star." Ted beamed, taking up his mug. And the rest of staff agreed, (although Frank gave his brother a warning nudge).

“Pass the milk, would you?" Constance asked ignoring the overly familiar compliment. Ted hadn’t been here long enough to learn not to call her anything but Miss Hardbroom. And right now, she couldn’t be bothered threating him into remembering.  
It had been one of the school’s more madcap days, as minor disasters followed one right after another and everyone needed a good brew (with exception to the chanting teacher’s pink concoction). Constance had played mother and poured out the drinks ranging from her own cup of near black tea to Miss Cackles strong but decafe coffee, then set them off handing themselves out on the floating tea tray without anyone else getting up, before finally sitting down herself.

Ted passed the milk as asked. Along with the bowl of little white cubes; "Sugar, Miss?" he hadn’t been here long enough she didn’t need them…

 

 **Calling** **Me** **Sugar**

 

“Cheer up sugar-plum, why so glum? It’s only prep.”

"I’m not glum. C Hardbroom grumbled. And then said half-heartedly knowing it wouldn’t make much difference. “And I have a name, thank you."

“Alright. Calm your cauldron, little ‘Broom.”

There were times when little Constance wished she wasn’t so clever or hadn’t studied so hard at home. If she wasn’t so clever then she wouldn’t have needed to skip two years of schooling and be placed in a higher up older class. And if she hadn’t been put in an older class she wouldn’t be resigned to becoming the baby of the group and subject to so many nicknames by her far senior class mates who didn’t take her seriously.

Shrimp because that was the name for all first years from the big girls. Swot because she worked hard. Sugarplum because she was small and sour. Little 'Broom because Sugarplum had taken to much imagination.

It would pass when they got bored she was sure. In fact, it would pass when she would be to ganglier and even taller than them so she could no longer able to be called little or a shrimp. But now it was very irritating. 

Cassandra Babbage rolled her eyes behind her glasses and continued. “I’m just checking you were focused Connie you're very -"

"Quiet? People do tend to be when they're working you know." Hardbroom said. Well that wasn't strictly true. She always was, her potions partners weren’t.

"Cabbage is right, I think you’re working far too hard Sugarplum.” Roberta ‘Bobbie’ Bay-Leaf said, looking over Constance’s shoulder. “You’ve just wrote in eleven spoonful’s rather than just the seven.”

Constance was about to correct her but suddenly yelled, having felt a sharp tug on her scalp as something pulled quite hard on her plaits. Cabbage's, Bobbie’s and their class mates’ heads were yanked back or down in a similar hair pulling spell fashions as giggles came from the table behind them.

“Is your Shrimp having a bad counting day Bay leaf?" Called One of the fourth-year girls. "Does the little baby swot witch need a maths spell or some extra fingers to count on?”

Constance glared at her, hoping she looked scarier then she felt. Third and Forth form girls did not get along regardless of age.

 “No I do not.” She huffed, ignoring the drawn out Oooooohs from the forth years. Bobbie probably would have sent a counter curse at Bindweed if Matron hadn’t been at the other end of the hall shushing them all and threatening point deductions.  

And her class mates were looking at her as if she was only six again. Again.

“I’m not. It’s just my handwriting look, see? And anyway,” Connie hissed lowering her voice so as not to be heard by the prefect. “You should be looking at your own work, not planning midnight feasts with B dorm! Don’t think I haven’t noticed all the notes flying back and forth from the window.”

“Oh, cheer up about that little Broom. You’re invited too.” Bobbie scoffed. Constance looked at her, confused. “…What?”

“I’m invited? Me?” Constance blinked. “Why?”

“Of course you are invited, you biscuit. You’re in our dorm as well.” ‘Netty’ Nettles said around the pen in her mouth as she frowned over her advanced alchemy work. “Not scared of heights, are you? I think’s about time you joined us.”

“I didn’t know I could.” Constance said, hoping her voice didn’t sound so squeaky and that it wasn’t a joke. She’d always secretly wanted to tag along not that she’d admit it. Had she been older she might have realised the Oops look shared between the older girls. “But- but you said I was a swot! And you keep saying I’m one of the first years.”

“Well you are. Age wise.” Cabbage said. “But even for a swot and teachers pet, you haven’t snitched on any of the other ones we’ve had. And you stopped that toad in fifth year finding out about the last one.”

“Plus, you did save Poppy’s neck in potions last week.” Netty chipped in. “Oh, and Bertha’s sister in upper sixth is even taking a trip into town for us to get extra tuck so it’ll be even extra special as your first feast with us.” 

“That settles it then. Even as a shrimp and a swot, you’re our swot.” Bobbie said, with something akin to coven pride. “So, Little Broom. Are you in? Do say you'll come along?”

Constance the swot blushed and nodded shyly then carried back on with her homework fort to keep a smile off her face.

“Marvellous! See gals, I knew Sugarplum loved us really.”

“Hmm. Heaven knows why.” It was a blessing and a curse to be the baby of the class 'Sugarplum' thought. 

**You** **Called** **Me** **Sugar** **Oh,** **No,** **No..**

“Where the hell has this come from?!”

The young potion teacher ignored the question and carried on packing her bag. Even while she didn’t have much in the way of things (she chose to leave anything she’d been gifted) a simple spell made sure it’d all fit in one bag so she wouldn’t have to return. 

“No that came out wrong. Cons, honey? Come one sweetie this is all very sudden. She didn’t mean anything I promise. Why don’t you stay here tonight we can talk about it properly and it’ll all be better in the morning?”

“No. Kindly have any of my mail forwarded to the castle but I don’t want to see you ever again.” Constance said with gritted her teeth, biting back tears as she tried to leave what had been their little paradise. Carrying her small battered suitcase down the hall she pressed on only to have her way blocked. Feeling threated Constance raised a hand, only to be laughed at.

“Come on Constance be reasonable. I love you. Let’s just think this through. Come old girl, don’t you love me?”

“YES!”  Constance said brandishing her spell fingers and would later cringe at how hysterical it all came out. “Yes, I do- I did! But did you ever think to consider any one else but yourself? You’ve gone too far this time and I hate it that I should hate you! Did you ever stop to consider your actions? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you in a toad for eternity!”

“You wouldn’t! I said I didn’t mean too-honey calm down I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did anyway!”

Grabbing her arm was a mistake. Love was not there now. She had her little family and her new kitten back in the castle, a place she should never had left, not even to reclaim her treasures and books. She’d only worked there a term but it already felt more like home then this den ever had in recent months. She had to get back to their safety, back to Amelia before something happened. So, wrenching her arm free Constance fled for home in the quickest way she knew how, one she hadn’t used in years.

“Wait- where? How-? Constance?!”

 

 **No.** **No** **.** **No** **...**

"Constance!" Miss Hardbroom vanished from sight and reappeared unseen several corridors away in the staff quarters but kept going, even when Amelia started calling trying to summon her back. Her boots pounding the spiral stairs to her room and she slammed the door behind her, her fists beating the wood, tears streaming down her face unchecked. Eventually Amelia and the others could be heard on the other side of the door, Amelia begging her to reconsider but Constance refused to listen or let her in. It couldn't end like this. All they had worked for, to be cast aside for some designer fantasy and celebrity status. Cackles academy, Betrayed, sold out and knocked down. Unable to channel her magic wisely she continued to form her frustrations into more tears feeling utterly wretched about the school, Miss Cackle, and everything until she'd worn herself out, and in the oncoming darkness fell into a fitful sleep on her bedroom floor.

**...** **Have** **You** **Ever** **Wished** **For** **An** **Endless** **Night?**

 

All the school’s residents slept on soundly. All, Except one.

 

Constance Hardbroom

 

Not asleep, Constance was trying not to focus on anything in particular and let her clever mind ponder over yonder. Still feeling over stimulated she flexed her wrists letting her magic flow freely up her arm, feeding off her spare energy and fidgety sparkle at her fingers....

 

Constance watched as those sparks skittered over the sheets and across her ceiling. Glancing at the clock she realised it’d been barely five minutes since she last looked at it. She could sleep later, Constance decided. Dawn would be in no rush. Daydreaming and wasting both magic and time were normal things she would berate her students for but there was no point lying awake in bed either. She hadn’t even touched any wide-awake potion. She just felt so… contained. And not in a good way. Fresh air would do her good she decided and a moment later Constance was out of bed, the shutters on her window thrown wide open and she was taking in the moonlit roof tops the forest and that endless sky.

**Lassoed** **The** **Moon** **And** **The** **Stars** **And** **Pulled** **That** **Rope** **Tight?**

 

The crescent in the sky felt so close she could have reached out and touched it pulling it closer to her or pulling herself up to its height. But that was but a childish daydream. A fantastic, but childish dream.

What a perfect night, she thought as she leant out over the window ledge, debating on fetching her broomstick. Even a first year could fly by that moonlight. A light breeze not at all cold played with her hair, as she untwisted the bun into her night-time braid let it trail down like a shortened version of Rapunzel. Well she was in one of the towers she supposed.

 

 **Have** **You** **Ever** **-**

 

Suddenly as she leant out a little more still deep in thought, the cobble under her hand came loose from the others.

One moment she was stood tall at the window the next Constance found herself Pitched forward as her life flashed before her eyes. No time to cry out Her stomach hit the ledge, hips catching the windowsill and her out stretched hand braced on the wall was the only thing stopping her tipping completely out the window. As if in slow motion she saw the stone drop almost roll down the tower, falling and spinning. It hit one roof top below, rolled down, taking a few tiles with it before snowballing off the edge smashing down on to the yard Shattering the silence.

Is that going to be me? She panicked. Am I going to have the ground rush up to meet me along with fate?

 

 **Held** **Your** **Breath**

 

She Waited for the fall.

And waited.

Then deciding fate might just have other plans if she could help it, winded and perhaps even nursing a bruised rib Constance tried to inch her feet back to reel herself back in. Not quite able to stand she just succeed in nearly slipping, forwards again not back, her slapping her braid across her face.

This Teetering on the edge she decided was Scarier than the original drop. Again, her life flashed before her eyes. Including her first fall off a broom at six. “And why fall when you can fly.” Came those old words. “Are you a witch or not?”

Controlling her moment of weakness Constance forced herself to think, logically and cleverly. There in her mind and on her lips, was a spell for the job.

Slowly slowly Constance invoked a Levitating charm, just a few inches off the sill. Not enough to go floating off into the stars but enough to hold her up so she could get herself back inside to safety.

 

 **And** **Asked** **Yourself,** **Will** **It** **Ever** **Get** **Better** **Than** **Tonight?**

Now standing upright albeit a few inches off her floor, and Constance felt could breathe again. The whole expericance according to the clock had been over in less than fifty-two seconds but felt like a decade. She must have looked quite ridiculous had anyone been awake to look out their window. Her black dressing gown was covered in stone dust and plaster with her hair spilling from its braid all windswept, and she could see the odd twinkle in windows of a few girls waking up startled by the noise and lighting candles.

But Constance didn’t care for that now. She cared for the adrenaline, the fright, the relief, the childlike glee. All rushing about her. It felt like the first time she rode a broom properly at six and a half. And Constance laughed a quiet little laugh to herself to let her feel weightless and free. Reluctant to return to bed even now with a clear head and a new memory committed to mind she let her self just float at her window watching the night, and lights going back out in windows as the girls settled back to sleep. An owl that hooted somewhere in the trees surrounding Castle Overblow again and the school’s residents slept on soundly. All, except one.

 

**Tonight** **...**

Feeling almost one with the night Constance Hardbroom flexed her wrists and spell fingers again. Keeping one hand near-ish the sill she let her magic flow freely up her other arm, feeding off her spare energy and fidgety sparkle at her casting fingers before with a throwing the spell up in to air, watching the sparks dance in the dark glinting in the moonlight and weave a path to earth; almost like Glitter In The Air… 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N phew this story nearly killed me and I nearly bumped off HB doing it D:  
> Also I wanted Constance to be the sole focus of the story which is why the lover or lovers aren’t named or gendered so it’s up to you who is who. Multi- shipping, yay! Anyway thanks for reading ALL of that, t-t-t-that’s all folks!


End file.
